was regret that the level of immigration from Europe was falling, and that the Germans were neglecting North America, giving preference to their colonies and other countries. What was the cause of this regret? It was because the German was a better worker than some others. Can the war alter that? It depresses me to see responsible men naïvely committing themselves to the assertion that we must do away, not only with German military imperialism, but with German economic imperialism. What a delusion! We might as well say at once that we must make it our business to dispose of a nation with more enterprise and more children than others have. To try to prevent the Germans, or the French, or any others, after the war, from working harder than the rest, is not only childish but a wretched miscalculation. The others ought to work their hardest and best, so as to raise the general level and not try to lower it. Let us abase German pride, but let us imitate, and even improve upon, Germany's good points. In any case, do not let us waste our time in denying their existence and in stimulating them under pretext that we want to destroy them. Shells are powerless against the inherent qualities of France and of Germany too, as well as those of any living people, and they cannot destroy a nation.

This being so, it is obviously a great mistake to ask the United States to reject co-workers against whom the only complaint was that there were not enough of them. The contradiction would be altogether too flagrant.

It must be admitted that the majority of the Germans who have left Germany did so with no thought of returning. The object, in many cases, was to avoid military service. The United States cannot regard these men as enemies. After one or two generations they become completely Americanized.

As for those who have brought German pride, domination, and militarizing principles with them, and as for the latest arrivals, it is clear that during the present crisis they are a hindrance to the policy of the United States, but it cannot be maintained that they will not become American. We have proof to the contrary in France, where we see the sons of Germans serving freely in our army, — just as the Germans have, unfortunately, assimilated some of the very best of the French, who were driven from our country by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes and by persecutions of all kinds.

Those immigrants in the United States-who have remained German are, in any case, only a minority, and most of them are not of the fighting kind; and this minority will not resist any really national outburst of American sentiment. The danger in the United States does not lie in German resistance but in American indifference.

Here is another argument that may be urged against me: Supposing that there were no war profits and that the Germans formed only an infinitesimal part of the hundred millions of American citizens, would it not still be to the interest of the United States to look on, seeing that they have no army? Must not their policy be governed by their military impotence?

This raises the problem of 'the vital question of national defense' and of 'unpreparedness,' which has been under consideration more or less in all neutral states since the outbreak of the war, and even in belligerent countries. There is not one belligerent who cannot say now, 'Why did we not have more ammunition, arms, submarines, and so forth?'

In the United States, the out-andout pacifists, through their very eloquent spokesman Mr. William J. Bryan, uphold the theory of not protesting

If they had their way, Germany would be free to invade and master every other country. I have already said very clearly what I think about this false conception of peace, which would lead to the enslavement of the world and the triumph of violence over right.

In opposition to the peace-at-anyprice apostles we have President Roosevelt and others, who are in favor, not merely of making a protest, but of armed intervention.

It would be more than bad grace on my part to criticize President Roosevelt's views, although the esteem I have always felt for his person and character enables me to judge his generous conduct without difficulty; and how could I be otherwise than grateful to him for wanting to act in favor, not only of right, but of my country? I nevertheless hold to the conviction that the only suitable course for the United States Government is to lodge a protest, and that armed intervention would be a rash and useless complication, inasmuch as a large corps of American volunteers could not be formed spontaneously.

However much one may regret that the United States have no army, the fact remains. A young country, in full process of growth, cannot populate itself and develop its territories and its unlimited resources and, at the same time, militarize itself. The two processes are in contradiction. Furthermore, the war shows that, if the United States had been prematurely militarized, they would have been weakened. Germany's force lies largely in its economic organization, or, in other words, in the perfect utilization of all its national resources. Germany would have been vanquished long ago if the whole country had been only an immense barracks. The United States, in spite of their immense progress, are still far

Germany. They have not yet enough workers for their agriculture, commerce, industries, and laboratories. The great strength for resistance of the United States is based on their economic development. Do not stop America's growth in order to plunge into adventures!

In France, what was lacking at the outbreak of the war was neither men nor transports nor brave and capable generals, but economic organization. If we had devoted to that organization the thousands of millions we have spent in building forts, useless superdreadnoughts, and the barracks required by our three-year military service system; if we had realized that a soldier can be sufficiently trained in a few months or weeks instead of three years, always provided that the whole nation had been supplied with the necessary officers, arms, ammunition, provisions, and communications; if we had, in short, adopted a military organization forming the complement to a good economic and democratic organization, the Germans would not be occupying part of our territory.

Americans have no need to declare war to be ready to repulse any one who may attack them, and no one will ever dream of attacking them if they confine themselves, as I have always said, to strengthening their economic organization by a fundamental organization of their national defense. Switzerland, which is a thousand times more exposed to attack than the United States, and is, in fact, in the midst of belligerent states, has succeeded in developing and making herself respected. Belgium might perhaps have resisted more effectually had she possessed a more national and more democratic military system.

The question for the United States is to find the system of defense that in

terferes least with their economic activity. A great navy, far from protecting them, would ruin and expose them. It is proved that super-dreadnoughts are useless and can do nothing but hide themselves in port to avoid cheap defensive craft like submarines, mines, torpedoes, and aeroplanes. If Germany, instead of great battle fleets, had had nothing but fast cruisers like the Emden, the Goeben, and the Breslau, and submarines, she would have neutralized or destroyed all her enemies' fleets.

IV. CONCLUSION

The United States cannot exist under a system which permits of the violation of treaties. Moreover, it will be a long time before they can get together an army and a fleet which would enable them to declare war.

Does this imply that they are to look on silently and helplessly at any crimes that may be committed? No; the war has simply emphasized their need of a good system of defense; they will be listened to if they cannot be attacked. But they are no more under an obligation to keep silent than to declare war.

A formal and definite protest was, and remains, their resource and their duty.

What would be the use, it will be asked, of a protest without any means of following it up? Would it not involve humiliation or war sooner or later? No. Abstention will lead the United States to war more surely than a protest. It is clear that the United States are now more or less compelled to act because they held back too much at the beginning of the war. Their attitude of reserve led the Germans to think they could do anything they pleased. It encouraged their attack, not only on France and Belgium, but on the whole world. The German government has constantly asserted that if it

had been warned in good time of what England would do, it would not have declared war. If it had received a protest from America, it would have had more respect for Right, and would not have regarded Right as defenseless and non-existent.

Even now the United States government is by no means reduced to impotent protests. Assuming that it is compelled by the insolent clumsiness of the German government to break off diplomatic intercourse with Berlin, can it be supposed that such a rupture would have no moral effect? Does not the American government possess hundreds of means of preventing the German government from taking advantage of the situation to damage American interests? The most foolish and ineffective of them, and the one that would best suit German calculations, would be a declaration of war, which would plunge the United States into utter confusion and give unexpected strength to the arguments of the peace-at-any-price party. The United States, after having been the last to declare war, might be the first to ask for peace. Their already difficult position in the world would then be aggravated by their isolation.

This isolation is not a mere expression. It is the great danger for neutrals in the future. It was argued a year ago that abstention on the part of the United States was a very clever policy and would ensure the selection • of the United States as arbitrators. I have always thought the opposite: a country that plays no part in the present drama will have no share in the dénouement. If the United States make the mistake of remaining outside, no one will listen to them when the time comes for them to intervene. This is inevitable. Beware! On the day when the nations realize that they have been deceived and led out to slaughter one

another, there will be more solidarity between those who have fought than between them and the neutrals who merely looked on. There are already signs of this. French wounded are admitting that they were well cared for in Germany, and it is the same with German wounded in France. A wounded Frenchman refused to be separated from a German who had saved his life. At Tours station recently, one of my friends witnessed the arrival of a batch of German prisoners. The spectators, who were so hostile at the beginning of the war, now say very little on such occasions. A big, stout man nevertheless uttered an insult. A French soldier who was one of the guard, interfered and closed the man's mouth with these words: 'Let them alone. Have you been in the trenches? They have.' Sooner or later and the sooner the wiser the United States, without declaring or waging a useless war on

Germany, must depart from their reserve and take up their part as the guardians of right. Their subsequent influence will depend upon the clearness and definiteness with which they speak. They will not have become belligerents, but they will have taken sides. If it is urged that the German jingoes in the United States will respond by attempting to cause general disorganization, my reply is that such an attempt would not only fail, but would demonstrate that it was to the interest of the United States to prevent the war and to prevent the triumph of German pride.

It seems to me that the United States, without taking up arms, can still conciliate their interest with their duty, the Monroe Doctrine with their need for stability. They can give distracted Europe the example of their union in respecting Right, and help her to establish a new order on the basis of a permanent peace.

I

Nor long ago a newspaper dispatch from Leicester, England, described the untimely fate of a traveling band of pacifist preachers who styled themselves "The Fellowship of Reconciliation.' It appears that the good patriots of Leicester beat them soundly, burned their camp and equipment, and concluded the matter by singing "Tipperary' and 'God Save the King' over the ashes.

The incident epitomizes the absurd but deeply tragic plight of man. His bravest and most exalted purposes, those of nationality and humanity, are driving him to self-destruction. There is more of tragedy in this than a present loss of life and material goods; there is a dreadful suggestion of doom, as when one first detects symptoms of an incurable disease. There is a seeming fatality in life by which right motives impel man to work evil. Intelligence, self-sacrifice, devotion to a cause, those

qualities of mind and will on which we have been taught to pride ourselves, seem only to make men more terrible, or more weak, according as they turn to deeds or to meditation. To take up arms and destroy, or to sit passively by while destruction rages unrebukedthere is apparently neither virtue nor happiness in either course. If such be the predicament of man, it is not surprising that many are praying that the curtain be rung down and an end made of the whole sorry business.

In what I have to say I address those who are still determined to think the matter through, notwithstanding the fact that, as Mr. Tulliver says, 'thinking is mighty puzzling work.' Despair we may reserve as a course of last resort. Likewise the death-bed consolations of religion by which human weal and woe are left to the inscrutable wisdom of Almighty God. When the present scene becomes too painful we may shut our eyes, or turn to some celestial vision. But I for one cannot yet absolve myself from responsibility. There is a task of civilization and social progress to which man has so solemnly pledged himself that he cannot abandon it with honor. And in this hour of trial that pledge requires us to form a plan of action which shall be neither an act of blind faith nor a confession of failure. We must endeavor both to see our way and to make our way.

How shall the constructive work of civilization be saved and promoted? It would be a much simpler matter if it were only one's 'inward peace' that was at stake. Mr. Bertrand Russell tells us that 'the greatest good that can be achieved in this life is to have will and desire directed to universal ends, purged of the self-assertion which belongs to instinctive will.' But there is one greater good, and that is the ac

1 Atlantic Monthly, August, 1915, p. 267.

complishment of these universal ends. This is a much more baffling and hazardous undertaking. It requires a man not only to make up his mind, but to brings things to pass. It becomes necessary to use the harsh and dangerous instruments by which things are done in this world. Civilization is not saved by the mere purging of one's heart, but by the work of one's hands. The forces of destruction must be met, each according to its kind, by the forces of deliverance. The belief that, when a man has struck an attitude, and has braved it out in the midst of a rough and vulgar world, he has solved the problem somehow and done his duty, underlies much of the pacific sentiment that is now abroad. It is a dangerous error, because it makes the difficulties of life seem so much simpler than they really are; and may teach a man to be perfectly satisfied with himself when he has really only evaded the issue.

For what does this philosophy of inward rectitude really mean and imply? In the first place, it is self-centred and individualistic. Life becomes an affair between each man and his own soul, a sort of spiritual toilet before the mirror of self-consciousness. Social relations only furnish occasions for the perfecting of self, trials by which one may test the firmness of one's own mind. The state, economic life, and other forms of coöperative association, lose their intrinsic importance, and tend to be replaced by a fraternity of kindred spirits, in which each is confirmed in his aloofness from the vain hopes and petty fears of the world of action.

The crucial test of such a principle of life is afforded by the presence of a danger which threatens others, whom one may be pledged to serve, or some larger good extending beyond the limits of one's personal life. Whether to save one's own peace of mind at the expense's of one's own life or property is